A Beautiful Fool
by JackieStarSister
Summary: Songfic to "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Misérables. An older, wiser Daisy reflects on the dream-like nature of summer, and all the memories it holds for her. My idea of how Daisy would have justified her actions. Please review!


_There was a time when men were kind  
><em>_When their voices were soft  
><em>_And their words inviting  
><em>_There was a time when love was blind  
><em>_And the world was a song  
><em>_And the song was exciting  
><em>_There was a time  
><em>_Then it all went wrong_

I've heard it said that "Love is blind," but it's taken me years to fully realize the depth of that short aphorism.

Love can lead you blindly into a situation you normally would be able to judge safely. Love can blind you to reality.

Jay and I were both blind, at some point. Jay was blinded by love. He told me he didn't care about everything else in life, that I was all he cared about; if that was true, then he was blind to all the other good things in life.

Me? I was blind to love itself. I didn't appreciate the rarity of true love, the kind you might only find once in a lifetime. I thought Jay could let go of me as easily as I let go of him – that's not to say it was _easy_ for me, I did miss him both before and during my marriage, but I felt I had moved on.

_I dreamed a dream in time gone by  
><em>_When hope was high  
><em>_And life worth living  
><em>_I dreamed that love would never die  
><em>_I dreamed that God would be forgiving_

I've always thought that summer has a kind of dream-like quality. Its days are long and drawn out, but they slip away faster than you want them to.

I had two summers with Jay: in 1917, and in 1922.

The first time, I knew it wouldn't last, not forever. I knew my family wouldn't accept him – that was a good built-in excuse, my family's lack of acceptance rather than my own. I made a point of telling him that I did love him, and it wasn't that I _didn't_ want to be with him, I just couldn't. And I thought he understood.

We made all kinds of promises. He swore he'd never love another woman. I vowed to wait for him until he came home from the Great War. I think we both knew that if he fought in the war, then he would be someone I could be proud of. I could say that my beau was fighting for his country.

I imagined that Jay would return, proud and strong and fresh from the war, having proved he was worthy of me. I was the princess and he was the lowly knight; but he would come back for me.

_Then I was young and unafraid  
><em>_And dreams were made and used and wasted  
><em>_There was no ransom to be paid  
><em>_No song unsung  
><em>_No wine untasted_

"Ain't We Got Fun." I had heard that song once or twice before, but I never understood it until I heard Ewing Klipspringer play it on the piano in Jay's West Egg mansion. For a moment I wondered if Jay had chosen it on purpose, to a prove a point to me.

I couldn't believe he had spent almost half of his life preparing to see me again.

I was touched. I doubted that Tom ever loved me enough to go to such great lengths as Jay had.

And just seeing Jay stirred up so many old, sweet, heart-wrenching memories. For a moment, I did believe that the past could become the future.

_But the tigers come at night  
><em>_With their voices soft as thunder  
><em>_As they tear your hope apart  
><em>_And they turn your dream to shame_

I've never told anyone, of course, but sometimes, I feel ashamed. I don't know why. What do I have to be ashamed of? How I felt? What I did? What I didn't do? Who am I more ashamed of hurting, Jay or Tom?

Somehow, I have a strange feeling that Nick blames me. That's why he hasn't had contact with us since we left East Egg.

I still see Jordan sometimes, but we're not really friends anymore. She felt awkward around us, and she was a painful reminder to Tom and myself of that sad summer. I can't figure out whether or not she blames me.

I blame myself for being indecisive and letting Jay think that it could actually happen, that we could be together.

I blame Jay for asking so much of me. He wanted to pack up my whole life to be with him (while he had built up his whole life for me). He didn't seem to realize just how much could change in five years.

_He slept a summer by my side  
><em>_He filled my days with endless wonder  
><em>_He took my childhood in his stride  
><em>_But he was gone when autumn came_

People say I'm careless. Maybe they're right. But it's not that I don't care; I care very deeply about some people, and Jay Gatsby was one of them. I'm just not as graceful as I usually am, when it comes to making decisions and facing consequences.

At some point, I did mean to leave behind Tom and move in with Jay.

Maybe I'm a coward. The only things that Jay had and I didn't, were courage and determination.

Maybe I was pessimistic – a direct contrast to Gatsby's hope and optimism – but I had something that Jay lacked: realism. He couldn't accept the circumstances of the present, choosing instead to try to live in the past.

What was the right thing for me to do? Would it be selfish of me, to leave my husband and child for an old beau? What would have become of Pammy? Maybe she would grow up to be just like me – a beautiful fool. Another aphorism: "Be careful what you wish for."

_And still I dream he'll come to me  
><em>_That we will live the years together  
><em>_But there are dreams that cannot be  
><em>_And there are storms we cannot weather_

I swore I would never tell Pammy about Jay Gatsby. Why should I? There was no need to distress her with the ugly truth.

But when she started to get older, and boys and men started falling for her, I decided to tell her just part of it – how I had known Jay and loved him, but had to let him go. All I did was disillusion her before life did.

I don't want her to get hurt, or hurt anyone, the way I have.

_I had a dream my life would be  
><em>_So different from this hell I'm living  
><em>_So different now from what it seemed  
><em>_Now life has killed  
><em>_The dream I dreamed._

**Author's Note:** I think the song "I Dreamed A Dream" better describes Gatsby's dream of being with Daisy; but it's sung from a woman's point of view, and I wanted to examine Daisy's character. When I read _The Great Gatsby_ for English this year (as part of our unit on "The Disillusionment of the American Dream"), I felt bad for Daisy, and frankly I thought that Gatsby was asking too much of her. The reader is supposed to not like her, but I don't think she's bad at heart; at least she's more likable than Tom. Please, let me know what you think!


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